


Separating Circles

by nagi_schwarz



Series: New Horizons [2]
Category: NCIS, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-29 09:17:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13924080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: NCIS is dispatched to Atlantis to help the Agent Afloat with a new problem: someone is trying to sell Earth out to the Wraith.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the lost & found comment_fic prompt: "Any, any, 'We're not lost! We just... don't know exactly where we are.'"
> 
> Gibbs's MCRT is being sent to Atlantis. The run into an old friend aboard the Daedalus and make some acquaintances.

Ziva had only had half a second to wonder if her people knew about the Stargate Program before she was swallowed in a beam of golden light and taken up onto a spaceship.  
  
Abby was wide-eyed, clutching her giant purse, vacillating between  _Aliens are real! I told you so! and We’re on a spaceship!_  
  
McGee kept trying to ask questions about the science behind it all, but the spaceship was just like a battleship, and everyone onboard had duties they needed to attend to.  
  
Gibbs wanted to get the case started  _right now,_  but it was an eighteen-day journey from Earth to their destination, so they had three weeks to do their best to understand the Stargate Program, its history and complex politics, and then absorb the details of the case.  
  
Given that the NID, the SGC’s usual investigative branch, was under suspicion yet again, Ziva wasn’t surprised that they’d turned to one of the military investigative branches. Why NCIS and not AFOSI was probably a matter of politics, and also the SGC had a lot of Marines involved, so NCIS was a logical choice.  
  
Gibbs’s team was the best, and they’d just been reunited, so that made sense as well, although Gibbs still hadn’t found a replacement for Tony, and rather than bring along the newest candidate, they’d just left the poor child behind, doing paperwork at Tony’s old desk.  
  
And then McGee said, “They made you a redshirt!”  
  
Tony said, “Actually, red is for civilian personnel. I don’t go offworld without at least one team of Marines. It’s very flattering, how much they care about my safety.”  
  
Ziva turned, and there was Tony DiNozzo in a frankly unflattering gray-and-red uniform.  
  
“Tony!” Abby leaped at him and threw her arms around him, punching him in the ribs with her giant bag while she was at it.  
  
“That’s right. I’m the Agent Afloat for Atlantis.”  
  
“But - you’ve been emailing us,” McGee said. “Pictures. From -”  
  
“Borrowed from other Marines who were once stationed on the battleship I was supposed to be on.” Tony shrugged. “Sorry. You didn’t have clearance.”  
  
“I missed you so much!” Abby pressed a kiss to his cheek, left a bright red lip print, then stepped back so McGee could hug Tony as well.  
  
Ziva glanced at Gibbs, but of course his expression was unreadable.  
  
Tony glanced at Gibbs, nodded. “Boss.”  
  
“Not your boss anymore,” Gibbs said.  
  
“Well, McGee is still Probie.” Tony patted McGee on the back, let him go. He turned to a man standing nearby, who wore a similar uniform only with black patches instead of red. “Sergeant, would you be so kind as to escort Agents Gibbs and McGee to their rack? I’ll handle Officer David and Ms. Sciuto.”  
  
The man nodded. “If you’ll follow me, Agents.”  
  
Gibbs shook his head. “I want to get started. Take our bags our racks. We’ll find them later.”  
  
The sergeant glanced at Tony.  
  
Tony nodded. “All right. Abby, give your bag to Sergeant Reed. You too, Ziva. Let’s go.” He turned and headed for an elevator.

Ziva followed. Everyone, she noticed, had a radio earpiece, including Tony. He selected a deck and then sighed.  
  
“Bored?” Ziva asked.  
  
“Ah, just - the transporters on Atlantis are so much faster than elevators,” Tony said. “I’m used to not having to wait quite so long.”  
  
“Transporters?” McGee asked.  
  
“Too much science for me,” Tony said. “Maybe McKay will let you and Abby have at a broken one in your theoretical down time.” To Ziva he said, “You can have fun throwing down with Teyla and Ronon. Finally, a real challenge.”  
  
This was not the Tony she remembered, least of all because of the uniform that really wasn’t very flattering on him. Finally she said,   
  
“You are - paler.”  
  
“Atlantis is an indoor city,” he said. “I don’t go offworld very often.”  
  
Offworld. He said it so casually. Going to other planets was just  _offworld_  for him.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped into a corridor that was obviously in the bowels of the ship, judging by the exposed conduit and pipe running overhead. Tony started walking, so the others fell into step behind him. Judging by the way he was pausing, checking signs, he was unfamiliar with this area of the ship.  
  
Of course. Tony was lost. And he would refuse to ask for directions.  
  
But then he lowered his chin, stilling.  
  
“We’re not lost! We just...don’t know exactly where we are,” he said.  
  
“Who are you talking to?” McGee asked.  
  
Someone on the radio. He didn’t even bother to lift a hand to his earpiece. That radio was part of him. There was something cajoling to his tone that was almost - soft. Sweet.  
  
He sighed.  
  
“All right, yes, I’ll backtrack to -” Tony turned, shuffled past them, checking signs on the walls as he went.  
  
Gibbs sighed, his jaw tight. He wanted to get this over with so they could go home. He’d fought tooth and nail to get Tony back. Given the security clearance required to even hear the word Stargate, it was obvious why Tony hadn’t been returned - shuffling NCIS agents to Atlantis willy-nilly was a security breach waiting to happen. But wouldn’t Tony have wanted to come back? He’d been offered the chance to lead his own team and he’d stayed anyway.  
  
“Okay. I’m there. Where now? Look, I’ve only been on the  _Daedalus_  once before, and I’m never down on the lower decks anyway. It’s not like Atlantis,” Tony was protesting. “Also, not everyone can be you.” Then he cleared his throat. “I’ll take that under advisement.”  
  
He turned a corner and down another corridor, past several open doors, took the third doorway into what Ziva would have thought was a room but was instead another corridor, and this madness went on long enough that even Ziva was lost by the time they reached an actual room where a handful of other people were waiting.  
  
Two were women in uniforms matching Tony’s, two were men wearing uniforms that matched Sergeant Reed’s, two were men in similar uniforms with blue patches, and one was a giant of a man not in uniform at all. He was tall and muscular but young beneath his beard, had dreadlocks and a curious tattoo on his throat.  
  
“Well, this is cozy,” Tony drawled, shuffling in and making space for the others.  
  
“Agents,” said the older, caucasian woman. “I’m Dr. Elizabeth Weir.”  
  
Leader of the Atlantis expedition.  
  
Introductions were made - Teyla Emmagan, a human alien from a planet called Athos; Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, the military commander; Major Evan Lorne, the 2IC; Dr. Rodney McKay, the chief science officer; Dr. Radek Zelenka, his 2IC; and Ronon Dex, another human alien from a planet called Sateda.  
  
“Why are we here?” Gibbs asked.  
  
“Because,” Weir said, “someone is trying to sell Earth out to the Wraith.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the food comment_fic prompt: 'Any, any male/any male, "Are you gonna eat that?"'

Tim had been on the  _ Daedalus  _ for two days and was still incredibly overwhelmed. Aliens (though Ronon and Teyla looked perfectly human). Spaceships. Faster-than-light travel. Over a decade of space exploration on a scale that made Armstrong’s walk on the Moon look like a walk in the park. The number of times Earth had nearly been wiped out and been saved by a handful of people (usually the same handful of people) was staggering.

He wanted to read every paper he could get his hands on (the SGC apparently had a library of white papers waiting for publication once declassification occurred - if it ever occurred). He wanted to look at the computer coding and poke around in the engine room (where another alien, not a human-looking one, was apparently in control of the hyperdrive). He wanted to read every mission report and know how it all worked.

But that wasn’t why the team was hurtling through space toward another galaxy. They were supposed to help figure out who on Atlantis was communicating with people on Earth who wanted to defect to the Wraith, who were so sure that the SGC and Atlantis couldn’t prevail against them that they’d rather surrender than keep on fighting. The entirety of the Atlantis Senior Command had left Atlantis under the careful watch of the third level of command (who were provisionally cleared) to get officially cleared by an Earth-based asset that couldn’t be sent to Atlantis.

Tim’s head was still spinning with with the massive influx of information. They were sitting in the mess hall, which was on a deck with windows so he could see the colors of hyperspace flying by. He wondered if those were the colors Lovecraft had envisioned when he’d written  _ The Color Out of Space. _

“Report?” Gibbs asked. He was eating his prepackaged space food with nary a complaint.

“We are going through the personnel files the SGC provided us and cross-checking them with the information from the NID,” Ziva said. She patted her pocket where she was keeping the flash drive with the information from the NID on it. “Abby has been helping me.”

Abby was picking through her food more carefully. “Not having access to up-to-date information from Earth will make things difficult.”

“Another team is handling things Earthside,” Weir said. “We’ll coordinate with them in the weekly databursts.”

Abby nodded. “Okay. We’ll do our best.”

“Gibbs and I have been reviewing the AARs you sent us,” Tim said, addressing himself to Weir.

“Which AARs?” Sheppard sat up straighter.

Tim glanced between him and Weir. “The ones for missions flagged as questionable, with unexpected Wraith appearances.”

Sheppard frowned. “We’ve already run through the usual suspects - trackers, Teyla’s Wraith telepathy, illicit subspace communicators -”

“John,” Weir said said. “Agent Gibbs and his team are professionals. You trust Tony, don’t you?”

Sheppard glanced at Tony, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table from Tim. He was digging into his food with gusto, which was surprising, because in addition to being a fashion hound, Tony was a bit of a food snob.

But he nudged Lorne and pointed to his tray with a fork. “Are you gonna eat that?”

Lorne glanced up. “What? Oh.” He put his little chocolate pudding cup on Tony’s tray. “Have at it.” Then he turned back to Zelenka to listen to whatever he was saying that required wild gesticulation.

Tony dug into the pudding cup with a happy little smile.

Gibbs said to Weir, “What’s our cover?”

“You will be investigating a murder,” she said, her expression grim.

“An actual murder?” Abby’s eyes were wide.

Tony nodded, sobering. “Yeah. We’ve got a dead Marine and three guys good for it. All of them are in the brig.”

Ziva frowned. “So everyone is tense and hiding things anyway.”

Weir nodded.

“Tell us about the cover case,” Gibbs said.

“Perhaps when we are finished eating,” Teyla broke in. “So no one loses their appetite.”

Tim nodded. “So, Teyla - tell me more about this...Wraith telepathy?”

Sheppard raised his eyebrows.

Tim added, “If it’s not too personal.”

“Is there a chance other people could also have this Wraith telepathy?” Ziva asked.

“Let the woman talk,” Gibbs said, then nodded at Teyla.

Abby fluttered her fingers at Ronon, pointed to the tattoo on his neck, flashed him a thumbs-up, winked.

He looked startled and confused for a moment, but then he smiled.

Teyla explained how her people had been subject to Wraith culling for many generations, and that some of her people had been kidnapped by the Wraith and experimented on, and as a result some of them had a connection to the Wraith, could sense their approach. She had honed that sense so she could reach out to the Wraith with the telepathy they used to communicate with each other.

Human-looking though they might have been, they were evolved from an insect, so they had telepathy and a hive-mind to function. Their ships, McKay interjected, were called Hives.

Tony nudged Lorne again. “You gonna eat that?”

Lorne handed over his biscuit without even looking at Tony, still nodding at what Zelenka was saying.

Tim said, joking, “You might as well give Tony your entire tray.”

Tony froze. Lorne froze. Sheppard’s expression went blank, as did Weir’s. Zelenka sighed. McKay looked confused.

Abby pushed her tray across the table to Lorne. “Here. I’m not super hungry.”

Teyla said, her tone carefully light, “Is this like the game musical chairs? Only with our food trays. Curious how the game does not require music.” She started to slide her tray toward Zelenka.

“Sorry,” Tim said quickly. “I didn’t mean to start a cultural incident. Just - when Tony wants something from someone else, he’s like the camel with its nose in the tent.”

“What’s a camel?” Ronon asked.

Lorne smiled tightly at Abby. “Thanks.” He tugged her tray close, transferred the food he wanted off of it and onto his tray, then handed the rest to Ronon, who accepted with another smile at Abby.

“It’s from a story. Guy goes out to the desert with his camel - a pack animal,” Gibbs said. “A storm blows up, and the guy bunks down in his tent to weather the storm, but there’s only room for him and not the camel. But the camel asks to stick his nose - just his nose - into the tent. And the man relents. Then the camel asks if he can put his head - just his head - into the tent. And so on and so forth until the camel is all the way in the tent and the man is sleeping outside.”

“Ah. A moral tale,” Teyla said. 

Tony finished picking a few things off of Lorne’s tray, and they resumed eating in awkward silence.

When the meal was over, it was Zelenka, McKay, and Ronon who took all of the trays to the tray return like while Tony fired up his datapad to show Gibbs and the rest of the team what he’d worked up of the murder so far. Lorne, who’d apparently been the only law enforcement on Atlantis till Tony was assigned as Agent Afloat, had been helping with the investigation.

Tony walked them through the crime scene photos and sketches - very good sketches, apparently Lorne’s handiwork. He walked them through his interview notes, his review of the security footage, and the rest of his investigation. It was textbook Tony, half Gibbs-taught, half Tony-learned from his time with the Baltimore PD. Tim had missed it, missed  _ Tony. _

Had Tony missed them?

Ronon returned with a plate of cookies for dessert.

Tony accepted one from him with thanks, nibbled on it while he talked.

Lorne, Tim noticed, ate half of his cookie before surrendering it to Tony, who held out a hand without saying a word.

Gibbs tapped the screen, one of the suspect’s SRB photos. “This Marine Lieutenant - Jonathan Tyler Nealson?”

Weir nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s not his real name.”

Sheppard frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s the spitting image of an Air Force officer I knew back in the day. Jack O’Neill.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the band names comment_fic prompt: "Any, Any, The Soft Moon."
> 
> Abby works the murder case with her team, meets her first non-human alien, discovers the dance club on the Daedalus, steps onto her first alien planet, goes through a stargate for the first time, and realizes Tony is never coming back.

As it turned out, the Air Force officer Gibbs knew back in the day was none other than Major General Jack O’Neill, the head of Homeworld Security at the Pentagon, and one of the pioneers of the Stargate Program.

“Maybe he’s O’Neill’s son,” Tim suggested.

Abby nodded. “Yeah. Some kids look a lot like their parents. I mean, I wouldn’t know what that’s like, but -”

Weir raised her eyebrows at Abby. 

“I’m adopted.” Abby beamed at her.

Weir shook her head. “O’Neill had one son, and that boy died as a child.”

“One legitimate son, maybe,” Ziva said, and Abby winced internally. People saw the world as they were, not as it was, and Ziva’s family situation was very complicated. “He could be the result of an affair or something.”

“Does that make him a more likely suspect? Just because he had kinda messed-up parents,” Tony said.

Gibbs shook his head. “No, there’s kids resembling their parents and then there’s - that.”

Weir looked at Sheppard. “What do you know about Lieutenant Nealson?”

It was Tony who said, “Graduated from Annapolis with a BS in Aerospace Engineering, minor in German. Born in Chicago, raised in Minnesota and Colorado, sister and parents died in a car crash when he was fifteen, and he was made a ward of the state until he turned eighteen and was released from state’s custody to go to Annapolis.”

Ziva raised her eyebrows at him. So did Tim.

“What?” Tony protested. “It’s my job to know the people I’m investigating.”

“Who were his parents?” Gibbs asked.

“Samantha and Jonathan D. Nealson,” Tony said.

“My gut tells me there’s something off about that kid.” Gibbs jabbed a finger at that photo. “But until I get a look at the file and talk to him, I won’t know what it is for sure. Do you have the file at hand, DiNozzo?”

Tony poked at his datapad. “Here.” He pushed it across the table.

Abby, Ziva, and Tim all leaned in so they could read along with Gibbs. The file didn’t say anything more than what Tony had told them.

“When we get to Atlantis,” Gibbs said, “I want to start with him.”

Tony nodded. “We can do that.” He glanced at Lorne and Sheppard. “Anything you can tell us more about Nealson?”

“He’s smart, and not just for a Marine,” Sheppard said, expression thoughtful. “Bit impatient sometimes, but good instincts. Composed, for an officer as young as he is. Offworld, in tense situations, he keeps his head pretty well. Lorne?”

Lorne considered. “He likes Mexican, Chinese and pizza best. Listens to opera, which is unusual.”

“In a Marine?” Ziva asked.

“In a kid his age,” Lorne said. “He also really likes The Simpsons. He gets regular deliveries of MAD, Cracked, and National Geographic during mail call. He likes hockey and golf.”

“Golf?” Sheppard raised his eyebrows. “Good choice.”

“For a potential murderer,” McKy pointed out.

“Baseball,” Teyla said. 

“What?” Tim asked.

“Nealson likes baseball. He tried to teach Jinto and Wex and some of the other children once,” Teyla continued.

“Why is this important?” Ronon asked.

“Devil’s in the details,” Tony said.

Ronon frowned. “What’s a devil?”

McKay began to describe a creature with horns, a forked tail, and a pitchfork, but Sheppard cut him off.

“When we get to Atlantis, you can have first crack at him,” Sheppard said to Gibbs. 

“When do we get to Atlantis, exactly?” Ziva asked.

Abby wanted to know too. Her first alien city. She was so excited! Sure, she couldn’t tell anyone anything of what she’d seen, but just having the knowledge would be amazing.

“Sixteen more days, right?” Tim said. When the others turned to look at him, he hunched his shoulders, defensive. “Eighteen-day trip. It’s been two days.”

“That is typically how long it takes, yes,” McKay said, “but we’re going to take a bit of a shortcut. Not a long one, but - long enough.”

“Long enough for what?” Ziva asked.

Sheppard’s smile was enigmatic. “You’ll find out as we get closer. In the meantime -”

“In the meantime, we’ll start working up this murder,” Gibbs said. “And we’ll continue with our other investigative duties.” He nodded at each of his team members in turn. “Dismissed.”

And he stood, left the mess hall, purpose marking his stride. He probably already knew his way around.

“He was a lot chattier than you described,” Lorne said to Tony.

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” Tony said.

Ziva glanced at her watch. “I will do a bit more work before I retire. Abby?”

“Without access to lab equipment, I’m not much use,” she said. “Besides, I want to look around. Can you give me the grand tour, Tony?”

Ziva huffed. “Tony? He does not know his way around here any better than you do.”

“Tony would be glad to show you around,” Lorne said, also rising. He clapped Tony’s shoulder, the gesture brief but friendly. 

Too friendly? Abby had watched the way Lorne gave Tony food. Clearly they shared a lot of meals. What else did they share?

Ronon said, “I’ll come with you. Just in case.”

Abby beamed at him. “That’s awesome. Thanks! I love your tattoo, by the way. What does it mean?”

“It’s my military rank,” Ronon said. “Specialist.” He eyed her. “You have a lot of tattoos. More than most of the Marines.”

“Remember,” Lorne said, “there are rules about how much ink servicemen and women can have.”

Abby eyed him. “Do you have tattoos?”

Lorne’s expression turned downright demure. “That would be telling, wouldn’t it?” Then he dipped his chin, lifting a hand to his radio earpiece. “Yes, Colonel, I’ll be right there.” And he strode out of the mess.

“Have you met Hermiod?” Tony asked, standing and stretching. He’d shrugged off his jacket earlier in the meal, so he scooped it up off the back of his chair.

“Name’s not familiar.” Abby rose as well. “Who’s that?”

“An Asgard,” Tony said.

Sheppard and the rest of the Atlantis crew bade them farewell and good evening, departed, but Tim, Ziva, and Abby remained, with Ronon.

Abby cast Tim a sharp look. He looked confused.

Abby raised her eyebrows at Ziva, then lifted her chin at Tim.

Ziva raised her eyebrows in return, nodded, and caught Tim by the elbow. “Come with me, McGee. We have work to do.”

“But I want to meet the alien-looking alien too,” he protested.

“Another time,” Ziva said firmly.

That left Abby and Ronon standing in the mess hall. Abby wasn’t short for a woman, but Ronon made her feel small.

“Engine room’s this way.” Ronon turned and strode away from the table.

Abby followed. Strong and laconic. She was already used to that.

Tony started to follow, then paused, ducked his head like he was receiving a radio transmission. “Yes, I’ll be there. You just have to tell me how to get there.” He flashed Abby a brief smile. “Have fun.” To Ronon, he said, “Save the knives for the second date.”

“What if I like knives on the first date?” Abby asked, but Tony was already hurrying away.

“Date?” Ronon asked.

“It doesn’t have to be one,” Abby said. “Tony was just - joking. To him, everything is romance.”

Ronon raised his eyebrows.

“When it’s not murder,” Abby amended. “So, Sateda. Specialist. What’s your home planet like?”

“It was destroyed by the Wraith.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“They’ve destroyed a lot of planets.”

“Well, before it was destroyed. What was it like?”

Ronon’s expression softened. “It was home.”

Abby wasn’t sure if she was excited or disappointed that Hermiod and the Asgard looked like something out of Roswell. He was clearly unimpressed to see her, but he did submit to giving her a (very) simplified explanation of the Asgard hyperdrive systems and beaming technology.

He looked blank when she asked about his family.

“You know, your parents or siblings,” she said. “Friends?”

“All Asgard are clones. When our bodies fail, a new one is made, and our consciousness is transferred,” he said.

Abby blinked. “But - what if they lose something in the transfer?”

“Nothing is lost.”

“How old are you?”

“Old.”

Abby sensed she was getting on his nerves, so she fluttered her fingers in farewell. “It was nice meeting you, Hermiod. Thanks for talking to me.” She turned to Ronon. “So, what else is fun around here?”

“Do you like punching Marines?” He led her away from the engine rooms.

“It’s not something I make a habit of.”

“Do you like music?” 

“I love music!” Though Abby was pretty sure that she and Ronon didn’t have the same taste in music.

Ronon led her to an elevator, but instead of back up to the main decks where the galley and the racks were, he picked a slightly lower level. Judging by the exposed conduit and pipe on the ceilings of the deck they emerged on, they were still on the service decks. Ronon moved through the ship much more confidently than Tony did. At first Abby wondered how he knew where he was going, because there was little signage, but then she heard it, the familiar distant throb of someone’s heavy, heavy bass.

She turned to Ronon, eyes wide. “You have a dance club? On your spaceship?”

Sure, there had been bars and other social spaces on spaceships on Star Trek, but that was TV and this was real life.

It still thrilled her, to think of a spaceship as  _ real life. _

Aliens were real.  _ Ronon  _ was an alien. And a very sexy one. Maybe there’d been more right on Star Trek than Abby realized. She and Tim should do a rewatch.

Ronon turned a final corner, reached out, pressed a button to open a door, and music and strobe lights spilled into the hallway.

“Here,” he said. “Music and dancing.” He started to turn away.

Abby caught his arm. “You don’t dance?”

He frowned down at her, puzzled.

“Come on.” And she tugged him into the room.

He didn’t resist, though he could have easily pulled free if he wanted. The door slid shut behind them, plunging them into dimness. Abby led him toward the middle of the dancefloor. Then she stepped closer to him.

“Here,” she said. “This is one of the ways we dance on Earth.”

She showed him where to put his arms around her waist, and then she looped her arms around his neck and began to sway to the music at half tempo. Ronon had natural rhythm, fell into the music with her easily.

“Hey,” she said gently, in his ear, “look at me. As long as we move together, you won’t step on my toes. We can just dance. And also you’re taller than me - you have to make sure we don’t run into other couples.”

Ronon nodded, continued swaying with her, scanning the dancefloor around them. Was he checking for threats? Not even Gibbs would do that while he was dancing with a lady.

Then Ronon leaned down and whispered, “Other couples aren’t dancing like this.”

“We’re not other couples,” Abby pointed out. “You’re just learning. Or would you rather try something else?”

“I’m ready for something else.”

“Like what?”

He slid a hand to the small of her back and pulled her right to him. He linked his other hand with hers and started to move to the music at tempo, a simple two-step.

She grinned at him. “You’re a fast learner.”

“It’s a survival skill,” he said.

She leaned up, whispered in his ear, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

His grin in response was downright wicked. “I know.”

Spaceships and aliens in real life for the win.

*

Over the days that followed, Abby and the Team worked the murder case. With Tony among them, it was just like old times. Tony and Lorne managed to scrounge up a projector to go with Tim’s laptop so he could do his case presentations, and while Tim presented Tony injected dry comments that had Ziva scowling at him and Tim rolling his eyes.

Tony and Lorne also managed to find a really cool alien projector for Abby so she could use the crime scene photos to create a 3D model of the crime scene. The model projected into the air, and people could manipulate the projection with their hands to rotate it, zoom in on certain objects, or zoom out.

Tony walked the entire team through the autopsy report from Dr. Beckett on Atlantis, which also had cool 3D scans.

Poor little Sergeant Henson had had her neck broken while she was on a routine patrol in an area of the city deemed safe but uninhabitable. That portion of the city had sustained flooding damage, and the built-in Ancient security feed was broken there. Because the space was uninhabitable and no one went there regularly, the Earth-based CCTV system hadn’t been expanded to that area either.

None of the three suspects - Lieutenant Nealson, Sergeant Yuy, Corporal Vaughn - had alibis for the time of the murder, or rather, their alibis couldn’t be corroborated, because they’d all been alone in their quarters without company.

“Pays to hook up in your down time,” Tony murmured.

Gibbs went to cuff him upside the head.

What followed was chaos.

Lorne tugged Tony out of Gibbs’s reach. Tony stumbled and cried out. Lorne caught Gibbs’s wrist. Gibbs tossed Lorne to the ground. Lorne swept Gibbs’s feet out from under him.

Ziva, Ronon, and Teyla dove into the fray.

Ziva dragged Lorne to his feet. Ronon dragged Gibbs to his feet. Teyla stood between them, arms outstretched.

Abby clutched Tim’s arm, eyes wide.

“What the hell just happened?” Tim asked, also wide-eyed.

Lorne was breathing hard. “Sorry. Reflexive.”

“Grabbing Gibbs is reflexive?” Ziva demanded.

“Protecting Agent DiNozzo.”

“From what, a - a headslap?” Tim asked.

Ronon let Gibbs go.

Lorne yanked himself free from Ziva. “DiNozzo nearly died. Offworld. Head injury. It was touch and go for a long while there, so - protecting him from Marine roughhousing is still kind of reflexive.”

Abby turned wide eyes on Tony. “You almost died?”

“Almost,” he said quickly. “Not like Sheppard. He’s actually died.”

“Pretty good reflexes for a Zoomie,” was all Gibbs said.

Teyla said, “Perhaps we should all take a break.”

Abby nodded her agreement. “Yeah. Let’s. We should go get some -” Sun? Air? There was no sunlight to be had. All the air was recycled.

“A change of pace would be good,” Teyla continued. She caught Ziva’s eye. “Would you like to spar?”

Ziva nodded. “Yes. That is acceptable. I will change and meet you in the gym.” 

She and Teyla left.

Tim glanced at Ronon. “Um. You want to spar too?”

Amusement gleamed in Ronon’s eyes, but his expression wasn’t unkind. “Sure. Meet you there.”

That left Tony, Abby, Gibbs, and Lorne.

Tony put a hand on Lorne’s shoulder. “I could use a snack.”

Lorne nodded. “All right. We can hit up the galley, see what they’ve got. You want to come with, Abby?”

She glanced at Gibbs, but he was already walking away. 

“Sure,” she said to Lorne, and the three of them left their little conference room, which was really just a large storage space off of one of the labs. “Tony, tell me about how you almost died.”

“Really, it was nothing. Lorne’s just -”

“Doing my job,” Lorne said smoothly. “C’mon. Let’s get you food.”

He led the way to the galley, strolling calmly but quickly through along the corridors and up the decks. Obviously he knew his way around perfectly well. The galley was staffed entirely by Marines, but they all greeted him cheerfully, respectfully. He requested some snacks for The Lady - Abby beamed and waved - and Agent DiNozzo.

“Coming right up, sir,” one of them said. She turned and pushed past the others, vanished into a closet or a small pantry, and emerged with a little tupperware full of thick, gooey brownies. 

“Thanks, Corporal.” Lorne accepted it from her, plus three little dessert forks, and then they headed to the gym. 

When they arrived at the gym, several Marines on one of the benches beside the sparring mats got up to make room for Abby, Lorne, and Tony, all with a respectful smile at Lorne.

He opened the tupperware and distributed the forks, let Abby and Tony dig in first.

The brownie was amazing. Abby hadn’t had anything that good in a while. She hummed happily, eyes closed, savoring the morsel, and then she heard shouts. A familiar voice. Ziva.

She opened her eyes and saw, on the mats, Teyla and Ziva sparring. Both of them were armed with practice knives, and it really did look like they were dancing. Usually when Ziva fought it was fast, brutal, efficient, but Teyla was lightning fast, her body one constantly flowing line of motion, each strike blending into the next.

Marines gathered on the sidelines were watching appreciatively, money changing hands.

When the fight finally ended, Ziva had Teyla in a chokehold that would result in a broken neck, but Teyla had her knife poised to cut Ziva open and bleed her out through the femoral artery.

A draw. 

A nasty one.

But they straightened up and separated, respect in each other’s eyes.

On another mat, Ronon was facing off against Tim, who was wearing sweats and an NCIS t-shirt and looking both grimly determined and terrified all at once.

“Let’s see what you got,” Ronon said. “Come at me.”

Tim lunged at him.

Ronon side-stepped neatly.

Tim lunged again.

Ronon tripped him with one leg. Tim stumbled but managed to right himself, wheeled around to face Ronon again.

Tim lunged and punched.

Ronon caught his arm, dragged him in, wrapped him up in a chokehold.

Tim tapped, and Ronon released him. 

“You fight like a baby Marine.”

“Um, thanks?” Tim panted, rubbing his throat and wincing.

“You spar with Marines a lot?”

“Gibbs was a Marine,” Tim said.

“Ever had an opponent try to eat you?”

Tim’s eyes went wide. “Uh -  _ no. _ Never.”

“Out in Pegasus, the Wraith want to eat you. Disable their feeding hand first.” Ronon extended his right hand. “What kind of weapons do you carry?”

“A knife and a P28 Sig Sauer nine mil,” Tim said.

“Always carry more than one knife,” Ronon said. “One for them to take, another to kill them with.”

Tim nodded, wide-eyed.

Abby said to Tony in a low voice, “I kind of expected him to just - beat the hell out of Tim, really. Not that I want that to happen to my Timmy, but -”

“Ronon cares about people surviving the Wraith,” Tony said, voice just as low.

“Of course, Ronon has about a dozen knives on him at any given time, so him telling Agent McGee to only carry two is pretty laissez-faire, for him,” Lorne said.

Abby studied Ronon and wondered where he’d kept all those knives, because after dancing at the club, when she’d finally gotten under his clothes, he’d been miles and miles of smooth golden skin, firm muscles, and beautiful tattoos.

Abby nudged Lorne. “This brownie is amazing. The KP Marines must really like you.”

“Well, I had to give them most of the pan of brownie as payment for them protecting enough for me and Tony,” Lorne said.

Abby realized that despite having been given three forks, Lorne hadn’t actually eaten any of the brownie, instead had been watching Teyla and Ziva spar, first bare-handed, then both with pairs of long wooden rods.

“You baked the brownie?” Abby asked.

Lorne nodded absently, still watching the sparring.

Abby batted her eyelashes at him. “Marry me?”

“Pretty sure Ronon might have something to say about that, and I am already spoken for, but thank you,” Lorne said distractedly.

Abby was startled. Had Ronon told him about them? She glanced at Tony, but he was also watching the sparring.

“I don’t miss Ziva kicking my ass,” he said.

“Even Teyla has a rough time against Ronon,” Lorne said.

“My money’s on Ziva.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Lorne said.

Tony eyed him. “Really?”

Lorne’s smile was serene. “Really.”

“If you’re that confident -”

“I am.”

“Fine. You’re on.” Tony offered a hand. Lorne shook it.

Tony’s competitive spirit was familiar, and Abby smiled.

Then Lorne ducked his head, gaze going distant, and he said, “Yes, sir, I’ll be right there.” He rose, handed Abby the tupperware with the last of the brownie in it. “Duty calls. See you later.”

And he strode out of the gym.

Abby slid closer to Tony. “Do you think Ronon really likes me that much?”

“No, he’s not that possessive,” Tony said. “And don’t worry, Ronon didn’t go telling everyone you two hooked up. He barely says anything to anyone. Evan just - knows everything. That happens.”

“How?”

“Now that’s a mystery for the ages.” Tony forked up half the remainder of the brownie, letting Abby have the last bite.

She scooted a little closer, rested her head on his shoulder. “I really missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, just like Gibbs did sometimes.

She was pretty sure he wasn’t coming back to them, and she missed him already.

*

Abby, Ziva, Gibbs, Tony, and Tim were walking through the projection of the murder scene one more time. Based on the autopsy, Gibbs was pretty sure he knew how Sergeant Henson had been killed. Killer had sneaked up on her from behind, killed her quick and efficient. If Henson’s record was accurate, she was a well-trained Marine, no slouch, so whoever had killed her had either been better-trained or knew her well enough to be aware of her blind spots, when she was relaxed, or had, perhaps, been someone she trusted or didn’t see as much of a threat. Perhaps she’d conversed with her killer, foolishly turned her back on him, and been murdered.

Lorne poked his head into their little room. Ever since his impromptu sparring match with Gibbs, he’d kept his distance when Gibbs was around.

“You might want to see about getting packed. We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace in fifteen.”

Tim frowned. “But we’re still hours from Atlantis.”

Lorne nodded. “I know.” And he vanished.

“Packed?” Abby asked.

“I’m already packed,” Tony said. “Go. I’ll make sure our investigative tools are boxed up.” He tapped his radio and summoned some Marines.

Abby looked at Gibbs, but he nodded, so Abby and Ziva hurried back to their quarters. They packed fast - they’d packed light - and then they assembled on the bridge with Tony, Lorne and his team, Sheppard and his team, Weir, and Zelenka.

Abby had been packing so frantically that she hadn’t noticed when they’d dropped out of hyperspace, but then she looked out the viewport and saw a planet floating below them.

It looked like Earth, kind of. Less blue and green, more browns and reds.

“Ready?” Colonel Caldwell asked.

“Yes, Steven,” Weir said. “Thank you.”

Caldwell nodded. “Stand by for beaming.”

“Ready to beam,” one of the bridge crew said.

And then Abby was swallowed in golden light.

When the light dissipated, she was standing in the middle of a grassy meadow, only the grass was shades of brown and red, and when she looked up, the stars were all wrong.

But the moon was big and full and soft, and the entire alien planet was gleaming.

Tim looked awed. Ziva looked wary, but Gibbs was wearing a soft smile as he gazed up at the moon.

Sheppard said, “Gate’s this way.”

Ronon scooped up Abby’s bag, and together they trekked across the field to a stand of trees - and a Stargate.

It didn’t look like the one at the SGC. The symbols on it were different, and the chevron design was different. But it was beautiful. It had a little mushroom-shaped pedestal in front of it.

McKay reached out, pressed several buttons on it, then the central red button, and the gate whooshed to life.

Abby jumped back, her breath caught in her throat.

The event horizon was beautiful, rippling water that was shifting and glowing but not falling, not flowing. Even Ziva looked awed.

“Transmitting IDC,” McKay said, chin lowered, one hand to his radio. “We’re cleared.”

And he stepped into the shimmering water.

Sheppard, Teyla, Weir, and Zelenka walked after him, as did Lorne’s Marines.

“Does it hurt?” Abby asked.

Tony shook his head. 

“Go,” Lorne said. “We’ve got your six.”

“C’mon,” Ronon said. He nodded to Abby. “We can go together.”

She followed him toward the water, paused. Stared at it. She had no reflection.

And then she stepped forward.

What happened was too immense for words, too brief to understand, and then she was stepping into another room where armed Marines were milling around and the people on the balconies above were staring.

“You’re back early, ma’am,” a woman in a grey-and-black uniform was saying to Weir. “The  _ Daedalus _ is still sixteen hours out.”

Weir smiled. “We wanted to get back as soon as possible. We have important work to do.”

Lorne ordered his Marines to take the boxes of investigative equipment to the NCIS lab. Teyla offered to show the team to their quarters - they’d be staying in the guest quarters near senior command. Tony was following Lorne’s Marines to his lab.

Lorne, Weir, Sheppard, and the woman who’d greeted Weir all went still at the same time, listening to something on their radios.

“What’s going on?” Gibbs asked Weir in a low voice.

Her expression was grim. She lifted her head. “Vaughn, Yuy, and Nealson escaped from their cells. And another body has been found.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Greek origin for the word horizon.


End file.
